


You Can't Hurt Me Anymore

by glb03



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Backstory, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-07 16:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1905429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glb03/pseuds/glb03
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johanna Mason has known so much loss in her life and each one hurts more than the last. A story of pain, sarcasm, and finding a way to love the life you've been given.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. beginning

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 5-years old_

Mommy is crying and asking where Daddy is. She really _should_ know; Daddy and my older brothers are always at work this time of day. Oakley cries from her room, she's three years younger than me and doesn't deal well with being ignored. The house is different than normal, though, an old woman is holding my mommy's hand and her face looks worried.

When the old woman came in a few hours ago she was happy and excited. "You're going to have a brother or sister soon!" she had said. But after seeing Mommy she started looking sad and I don't like how she looks at Mommy, like she's not even there anymore. Like she thinks my Mommy is gone, but she's laying _right there_.

"Johanna?" Mommy croaks and I skip over to where she lays on her bed. She looks exhausted and her skin has a grayish tint, but she still had enough energy to smile at me. "Honey, I love you, you know that, right?"

"I know that, Mommy," I say, grinning. "Is it true that I'm gonna have a sister soon?"

"Or a brother," she reminds me, spoiling my mood. "But, honey, I want you to know how much I love you."

"I know how much you love me, silly!" I exclaim. "You love me lots and lots!"

She smiles faintly. "Baby, I don't know what I would do without you. You're my everything. I want you to be strong, okay? You're going to be my strong little girl, aren't you?"

"Mommy, what's wrong with you?" I ask, fear creeping into my mind. Mommy sometimes sounds tired but never _this_ tired. And never this scared. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't feel too good, baby," my mother coos. "Will you give me a hug? It'll make me feel better." I hug her, but it's all too short for me. Then a pained look flashes across her face and the old woman makes me go play with Oakley with a stern, "And stay in there until I call you out."

I'm enjoying myself with Oakley until a scream rips through the house. Oakley begins to cry and I can't move from sudden fear. The scream is followed by another, and more after that. I want to turn into goo and sink into the ground, I’m so scared. I want to go check on my Mommy, but the old woman's words flash in my head and I keep myself sitting and calm Oakley down.

It's been hours. The screaming has been off and on, but it stopped altogether thirty minutes ago replaced by the sound of a baby crying. The old woman finally enters.

"You have _two_ new sisters," she says with a tired and sad expression. I feel myself grinning, and run out to meet my two little sisters. They're almost identical and make me smile. I see my Mommy lying in the bed and I run to her.

"Mommy, you had _two_ babies!" I exclaim. Mommy's eyes are closed and her face is a chalky white, but I know she's just playing with me. She'll open her eyes in a few seconds and yell, "I got you!” But as I continue to stand there, I finally notice the blood. There’s a lot of it and the room smells overwhelmingly like metal, enough to make me gag. And Mommy still hasn’t moved.

"Child, step away from the body," the old woman says with narrowed eyes.

"You mean my mommy? Why?" I ask.

"She's passed on, child. Can't you tell a living person from a dead one?" the old woman snaps.

Dead? My mommy can't be dead. The blood… it’s just a joke. A huge prank my brothers are pulling. "My mommy's not dead, ma'am. She's alive. She just had two babies! How can a dead person do that?"

"She died in childbirth," the woman explains. "She had the babies and then died of blood loss. It happens all the time."

"My mommy is _not_ dead!" I scream because a person isn’t alive one second and then dead the next. It just doesn’t happen like that… or does it? The old woman gives me a surprised look before going to check on the babies without another word.

I sit in the living room in Daddy's favorite chair, waiting for him to come home and assure me that Mommy _is_ alive.

I hear boots on the porch and wait, my breath coming in short gasps.

My daddy and brothers walk in. Daddy has tears in his eyes. No. It can't be. Mommy can't be dead.

A few more men come in and walk to where Mommy is laying. They pick her up and lay her on a gurney before carting her out of the house. Daddy and my brothers are openly crying now. Tears spill out of my eyes. My mommy is gone. I'll never hear her voice again.

She'll never see me grow up.

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 11-years old_

Oakley and I climb up the tree, laughing at Sarah and Mary who haven't yet learned. They stare up at us with their bottom lips poked out and trembling. Charles, Pine, William, and Daddy have already left for work.

I've stopped climbing and sit in the lowest branches, taunting Mary and Sarah. I should be cooking lunch for the twins and Oakley, but everyone needs time off at some point.

I love the woods. They’re like a second home to me and Oakley. Sarah and Mary would be content to sit inside and...  _sew_. That's crazy to me.

While I've been taunting the six-year olds— I know it's childish, but so what?— Oakley has been climbing. I look up to see exactly where she is. Oakley is almost to the top of the tree all ready, she's made it to the most dangerous branches.

"Oakley, you need to stop now," I warn her. She only looks at me long enough to wink before climbing ever higher. "Oakley, stop!"

She shoots me a cheeky grin. And then the branch she's balancing on cracks. Her face turns to terror as she realizes what is about to happen.

Oakley falls.

Screams rip through the quiet of the day. My little sister hits the ground and seems to crumple up. I climb down faster than I ever have before. "Sarah, go get the healer! Mary, go find Daddy!"

I feel bad for telling the two six-year olds to run around by themselves but what else am I supposed to do?

I crouch beside my fallen sibling. Her breathing is shallow, her arms and legs bent at odd angles, and her face is white. A small trickle of blood comes out of her open mouth and I can clearly see that she bit off some of her tongue.

I get up and run to the bushes just in time for my breakfast to makes its reappearance. I retch for a few moments and then crawl back to my sister, waiting for the healer and hoping Oakley will make it through this.

The healer and Sarah show up minutes later. A few men are with them and they lift up Oakley. Her eyes flutter open, and her face shows the agony she must be feeling while she screams her head off.

I follow closely behind the group and see my father, my brothers, and Mary standing on the porch when we arrive.

"Johanna?" my father croaks. His eyes are red and puffy. "What happened?"

"She fell out of a forty-foot tree," I choke out and begin to sob. My father hugs me. Sarah and Mary hold each other and cry. Pine and Charles are silent with grave expressions. William cries openly, not caring that he's supposed to be strong. He can't help it, he's only fourteen.

The healer comes out with a grim expression. "Mr. Mason? Can I talk to you alone for a moment?"

"You can say whatever you're about to say in front of my children," my father says with gritted teeth.

"Mr. Mason, Oakley's injuries are very extensive, not to mention painful." She pauses and looks at the ground before continuing. "I don't have the right equipment and medical knowledge to help her. I'm so sorry."

"So, what you're saying is that she's . . ." Charles begins but then trails off, his face full of pain.

"She's going to die," the healer says. "Her injuries won't kill her for a few days at the least, but she will be in a lot of pain. I don't give painkillers to lost causes, Mr. Mason."

Dad doesn't seem to have the energy to speak, so I do instead. "So, her last few days are going to be filled with agony?"

"Yes, unless . . ." her voice trails off and I nod to keep her going. "There are ways to keep her from suffering."

"You're suggesting that we shoot her like some animal?" William says, clearly outraged. I silence him with a hand.

"Is there any way that we can make her death painless?" I ask quietly.

The woman looks at my father. "If you give me enough money to buy more painkillers, I can make her overdose on them."

I never thought I'd be in this situation. I'm discussing how to _kill_ my sister. This is wrong...  _wrong_. My father shudders. ”We can manage. Do it."

Charles and William give him distraught looks as the woman disappears and I sob into my father's chest.

I've just killed my little sister.

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 13-years old_

It's the reaping and I can't help but be a little scared. I'm eligible for the second time this year and I don't like to think about the odds. I've gotten tesserae to help out, since we're not richest family in the District. Even being a rich family, by District Seven standards, isn’t much to brag about.

"Johanna? Are you even listening to me?" one of my classmates snaps.

"Nope, I haven't heard a single stupid thing that came out of your mouth," I snap. The reaping day is never a good day for my social life, if you can even call it that. I get too tense for my own good.

She huffs, glaring fiercely, and I can't help but laugh at her. This just makes her angrier.

I'm pretty sure the Treaty of Treason is the most boring document ever written. I wonder about it, though. Aren't treaties supposed to make things better? Obviously the Capitol didn’t get that memo.

Suddenly my mother pops into my mind and I flinch. I remember the day perfectly even though I wish I could forget. Oakley's death has stayed crystal clear in my mind too and guilt has plagued me every day since her death two years ago.

I literally have to shake my head to get these ugly thoughts out. The escort is announced and I tense. "So, shall we pick the girl?" She walks over to the large bowl and pulls out a name. Could it be mine? Could that one slip of paper possibly hold my name? "Eve Santorini." A small fifteen-year old walks up to the stage. The escort asks for volunteers, but Eve isn't that lucky.

The escort walks over to the boy's bowl and pulls out a name. "William Mason."

I feel a gasp tear through my lungs. Shock courses through me, as my big, strong older brother walks onto the stage looking at me with sad eyes. " _Will_!"

He shakes his head imperceptibly and I feel tears flowing down my cheeks. The escort leads them off stage and I run to the place where the goodbyes are held. I cry into my brother's lap for too short a time before I'm sent away.

A few weeks later, I see Will murdered with a mace to the brain. All childish thoughts and wishes exit my head once and for all.

All I can think is that I've grown up too fast for my own good.

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 15-years old_

I've been working in the logging business since I was twelve. When my brother died in the Games, the slack had to be picked up by someone and I was the only family member old enough at the time. Cutting down trees all day isn’t too bad once you get used to it and the other workers aren’t too bad. They even play games during the breaks. These games objectives are mostly all the same: who can hit that tree over there by throwing their axe precisely or who can cut the most in sixty seconds. I’m a little smug to say I’m the reigning champ of all the bullseye games.

My first love, Branch, holds my hand and smiles at me as we walk to work together. "Branch?" I ask. "You think we're ever going to get out of here?"

He grimaces. "No, we'll be stuck here for the rest of our lives, Jo." He's the only person I allow to call me that. Even Dad can't do it anymore. We're given axes, gloves, and assigned a few trees to cut down over the week.

"I love you," I say before we part ways.

"I love you, too." He presses his lips to mine in an irresistible fashion that leaves me breathless and in no shape to be handling an axe. I walk away with his taste still on my lips and a dopey smile that I have to fight to get off my face before my friends see it.

The girls I'm friends with— which, I assure you, is not many— are usually rough around the edges and bitingly sarcastic. I guess you can say, I learned from the best. They talk and laugh and I smile along with the conversation without getting any real pleasure from it.

A small girl that's new runs up to us. "Did you guys hear yet?"

“What?" I ask gruffly, trying to hide my curiosity.

She looks up at me with wide eyes. "Some guy just got killed. Apparently they ran out of gloves and Bob's axe went flying and chopped the guy's head right off."

The girls look at each other with grave expressions. They wonder if they knew the unlucky man. They wonder if it's their husband or brother or possibly even their father. "How old was he?"

"Pretty young, they said, not even over eighteen."

My stomach flops. "What was his name?"

The girls pauses, unsure. “Leaf or something… I know it’s tree-y.”

"Could it have been Branch?" I ask, bottom lip trembling.

"That's it!" she exclaims.

I collapse. _Branch_. My Branch. He's gone.


	2. middle

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 15-years old_

The reaping is boring but it's always boring, so I shouldn't be surprised. I haven't ever enjoyed it— only sadistic bastards do and I don't think I'm _quite_ there yet—but this year seems especially tedious. I don't have any friends my age so I have no one to covertly whisper to instead of listening to the mayor's speech. This could be considered _sad_ , but I, for the most part, like not having friends my age.

Normal teenage girls are too… bubbly and happy. Quite stupid, in my opinion. When you can't go two words without saying "and then he was like" something is wrong with you in the head. _Dreadfully_ wrong.

I look to see my dad in the crowd behind me. He's spaced out, of course, which isn't a surprise either. Ever since Will died in the Games a few years back he's been a little off. I frown because he's over there all by himself. But then I see Charles and Pine making their way toward him with their wives. I'm happy Dad will have the company, though he won't notice _or_ care. I narrow my eyes, hoping to catch a glance of familiar brown-haired girls, but it's hopeless. Sarah and Mary are much too short to be seen in a crowd.

"And without further ado..." This man is giving me a major headache. "Your beautiful escort, Natalis!"

Natalis? And the weirdest name award goes to…! It could be a man or woman. How _charming_ , we have a mystery on our hands.

The puke-green woman steps onto the stage with a beauty pageant smile. "Oh, thank you, _thank you._ You're _too_ kind." Ugh… I think I just vomited in my nose.

I sometimes wonder which of the Capitol citizens are actually attractive under the skin dyes and outrageous makeup. When was the last time these rich people actually looked like normal human beings?

"So this reminds me of that time..." That I was in a horrifying hover craft crash and died. Damn wishful thinking. "And that's why you don't wear stripes with polka dots!" My headache has officially evolved into a migraine. Thank you, Natalis.

"Now we need to find out who our lovely female tribute from District Seven will be!" Sounds like _fun_. She sashays over to the glass bowl and picks out a little slip of paper, which if I squint and tilt my head to the right looks as though someone threw up on it. "What a pretty name! It sounds so... feminine and _strong_! Our female tribute is... Johanna Mason!"

I wonder who would throw up in the reaping bowl? That just seems a bit—Wait what.

The escort just said my name. I am the female tribute.

Oh _shit_.

I walk forward slowly, mind not really processing this new information but feet somehow understanding. And then someone grabs my arm from behind.

I turn to see my dad. He hugs me. A million things are said by this hug. This is the kind of hug I wanted to give Will while we still had the chance. My father pulls back, kisses me on the forehead, and then runs away. Where is he _going_ at a time like this..?

Unwelcome tears bite at my eyes and I begin to walk toward the stage again. Unfortunately, I slip. I'm shocked at myself since I'm usually well-balanced. Where did all that go in this most crucial of moments? I know one thing: people aren't going to believe I slipped. They're going to think I collapsed from fear. They're all going to think I'm a weakling, no matter what I say.

My earlier plan is obsolete now so my brain kicks into overdrive trying to think of something new. A plan falls easily into my mind after a few seconds. Maybe it's a _good_ thing that they think I'm a weakling? They'll underestimate me and that will be their undoing…

With that in mind, I scratch myself, leaving a red streak of blood pouring down my arm. The now welcome tears leak out of my eyes and I make choking noises, hoping they sound like authentic sobs.

A Peacekeeper roughly pulls me up off the ground and shoves me onto the steps. I almost turn around and punch the bastard, but stop myself. I slowly crawl up the steps and pull myself standing.

I think about my mother, Oakley, Branch, and Will. Thankfully, it keeps the tears flowing. I put my face in my hands, as the escort goes to pick the boy.

"Joseph Calhoun!" a large eighteen-year old boy emerges from the crowd. He glares at everything until he is standing beside me, looking a whole _hell_ of a lot stronger. He pats me on the back, almost knocking me down again. Oh, _joy_ , someone feels _sorry_ for me. I long to knee him in the balls and advise him to keep his hands to himself in the future.

I smile at the thought. It's good that I'm still "sobbing" into my hands or people might be a bit suspicious of the grin spreading across my face. I want to chuckle under my breath, but restrain myself. "And these are District Seven's tributes for the Sixty-Ninth Hunger Games! Give them a hand!" Finally she wishes us good luck, with that Panem-forsaken catch phrase, and the reapings are deemed over. The same Peacekeeper that shoved me on the stairs leads me to the Justice Building.

I wish I could tell him to fuck off but that would be a little too spunky of the _new_ Johanna Mason, now wouldn't it?

_Johanna Mason; Train to District Seven; 16-years old_

The ride home is agonizing. I am so ready to get out of this shit hole train— the train is actually quite lovely, in a completely aesthetic sense, but I'm so excited I can't think straight— but also anxious about what my family will say. I killed five people. I didn't want to, of course, but it was me or them. Do I seem like the type of girl to give up my life for someone else? _Yeah_ , didn't think so.

To add to my current black mood, my horrid escort has been harassing me for the past few days and I'm about ready to backhand her.

" _Johaaaaaaaaaanna_!" Natalis whines and I grit my teeth. "You can't go out in public like _that_!" I have pants and a T-shirt on. Someone call the fashion police.

"Die in a fire," I mutter under my breath. She gives me a confused look and I glare. "It's worked for the past sixteen years of my life."

"But, doll, you're a Victor now," Natalis explains. "You are now able to afford the finer things in life, so shouldn't you show it off like a good little girl?"

Rage fills me. "I'm not a little girl and I'm definitely not a fucking doll for you to dress up and order around whenever you please. Try to remember that I've killed people and that I would not hesitate _to tear your fucking throat out_."

Natalis's eyes widen in terror and she scurries away. Blight sticks his head around the corner. "I heard shouting. What was that all about?"

I give him an innocent look. "Nothing at all, Blight. How about you go take a nice, _long_ nap? I'm sure a weathered old soul like yourself needs one every ten minutes."

He glares. "The old man insinuations are beginning to grind on my jolly disposition, Mason. What the hell happened?"

I sigh and glare at the ground, biting my lip. "I... may have yelled at Natalis."

"What did you say?" he asks warily.

"Um." I blink, not able to come up with a suitable lie in time. "I told her that I wasn't a doll or a little girl and that Iwouldtearherthroatout." I rush the last bit, in an attempt to conceal my words but I can tell by the reddening of his face that he heard me, loud and clearly.

He looks like he's going to have aneurysm— that can't be healthy. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I shake my head slowly. "Blight, why are you getting mad at me? _Clearly_ , she misunderstood my meaning."

A vein pulses on his forehead. " _Enlighten_ me."

"In my household, saying you'll rip someone's throat out is a very sweet gesture. It's kind of like saying, 'I will love you forever.'"

Blight throws down the glass of dark liquid he's been sipping on. Glass shatters everywhere. "For Panem's sakes, Mason! What am I supposed to do with you?"

I purse my lips in thought. "Ugh... you can start by telling me to get someone to clean this mess up?"

He lets out a grunt of frustration. "Just... I'm not going to deal with this shit. You can clean up your own mess."

"Technically speaking, the mess on the floor is yours."

He breathes in deeply and stalks into his room, slamming the door behind him. I flinch at the sound. That went _well_. I walk over to a couch and slump down into the soft furniture.

"I'm so ready to see my family," I whisper to myself. It makes me shudder in anticipation. I frown at the thought that not all of my family will be there to greet me.

I wonder what life would be like if no one in my family had died. If Mom was still here, if Oakley hadn't climbed so high up, if Will's name wasn't drawn, if Branch would have skipped work that day...

Would I have survived if all that had not happened? Is it a good thing they all died? I shake my head quickly. Not a _good_ thing, no, but maybe a necessary one. Maybe they were meant to die so I could live. I ponder it. Perhaps.

I suddenly remember the mess on the floor. "Damn it."

I find one of those nifty buttons that signal you need service. I press it and in minutes a young Avox man stands in the hallway before me. He looks young, around my age, possibly. "That was cool how you got here so fast, like really fucking fast. Shit, does the train have secret passages? That would be cool… Oh, yeah, Blight threw his glass in a fit of rage because he doesn't appreciate my highly sophisticated wit. I kind of forgot about it, honestly, sorry if it leaves a stain."

The Avox stares and me for a moment before grinning. He begins to clean the mess up. Johanna squirms. It's kind of uncomfortable, watching another person clean up the mess you inadvertently caused. "Do you need any help?"

The Avox looks up, smiles again, and shrugs. His expression clearly says, _Go ahead_.

I help him pick up the small pieces of glass until they're all plucked from the carpet and he goes to grab a rag and other cleaning supplies. The beverage smells suspiciously of alcohol. And Blight said he was a sober man… but what if he was a recovering alcoholic and I made him relapse? I really hope this is just my wildly overdramatic imagination and not in any way rooted in the truth. I would feel a little bad if it was. The Avox walks back into the room and snorts when he sees me still curled up on the floor.

I glare, standing up. I knew the train had been slowing down but as I'm doing standing, it comes to an abrupt stop. I stumble but quickly manage to catch myself from falling. I jump up and down in excitement and the Avox rolls his eyes at me.

I cock an eyebrow. "Something you need to say?"

I realize what I've said a second later and feel a pang of guilt but the ensuing silence is, _miraculously_ , not uncomfortable. Something in his expression tells me that he doesn't really care that I just said a no-no word when in the presence of an Avox.

I gesture to the cleaning product he is using that is making the carpet look as if nothing had ever soaked in it for half an hour."That shit really works."

His nod is distracted, his focus is clearly on his work. "Will you be here when I'm going on the Victory Tour?" He startles. When he finally looks up, his face is incredulous. Finally, he shrugs.

"You don't know? I mean, where will you be after this? Will you work for the same person… company… whatever you want to call it?"

He shrugs again.

"Do you have any fucking clue about anything?" He looks up at me again, blinking his clear blue eyes in shock, before chuckling under his breath.

Blight suddenly walks into the room, his hair ruffled from sleep— the old man actually took a fucking nap. "You ready to get off this damn train, Mason?"

"Hell no!" I smirk. "I can't bear to leave it!" I hear the Avox chuckle again. Blight chuckles too, apparently forgetting his earlier pissed off state. _See_! I always knew the combination of old people and naps made the world a better place.

"Go on," Blight says quietly with a big smile. I run through the train looking for the exit and find it. I step into the cool morning air and see my family. Charles and Pine, Sarah and Mary. I can't even breath as I throw myself into a bone-crushing hug from my brothers and my two little sisters join in.

"I missed you so much," I whisper and a lone tear leaks out. "But... now I can't breath, so, um, will you let me go?"

I hear Pine chuckle and with a small smile, I look at my brother. He looks... _old_. Far too old and worn to be my strong older brother. I punch him in the shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I just..." His voice trails off and he looks around in an attempt to avoid my gaze.

"Just tell her," Charles's voice is harsh and I hear Mary whimper and Sarah take in a shaky breath.

I look around, finally noticing the one absent family member. "Where's Dad?"

Charles looks at Pine and I can see Pine can't bear to say it. Charles sighs. "After you left on the train, we went looking for Dad. You know how he didn't show up for the goodbyes? Well, we went to look for him afterward. And when we found him . . . when we found him... he was... dead."

Mary lets out a sob, and in the corner of my eye, I can see Blight step off the train and give us an odd look. They're lying to me. Dad isn't dead. He can't be dead, right? That's... that's not _possible_. This is a huge joke.

"But— But I _won_!" I scream. "When you win, nothing bad is supposed to happen again! Right? _Right_? Pine. Please. Tell me it isn't true. Please tell me the _truth_."

Pine bites his lip as I fall to the ground, looking up at him. "Johanna… Dad killed himself after you were reaped."

_Johanna Mason; The Capitol; 18-years old_

"And you're sure about this, right?" I whisper to Haymitch quietly. " _Rebellion_. I— I never thought I'd hear anything like it."

"Well it's true, sweetheart." Haymitch smells of hard liquor and I shy away, a scowl on my face. "Are you in or not?"

"One: don't ever call me sweetheart again, unless you _want_ me to break your fingers." I roll my eyes. "Two: when have I ever shied away from the chance to cause a little trouble?"

Haymitch grins. "I'll take a chance and say never?"

I smirk. "Unfortunately for the population of Panem, you're right. So. What does being part of this rebellion entail, if I may ask?"

He seems to sober up a bit. "Fight against the Capitol, of course."

I roll my eyes. "Holy shit. I can't believe _I_ didn't think of that."

He scowls. "I'll talk to you more in morning about this, Mason."

"Just a little request," I say. "Take a goddamn shower before I see you again. You smell like shit."

He snorts before leaving and I sit back and sip my drink silently. The bite of it keeps me from drifting off to sleep at this late hour but my nose still wrinkles in distaste.

My tribute has died and I'm drinking away the slight guilt and sadness. It's damn near impossible for me to feel anything for anyone now.

I'm tipsy by the time I make it back to my room. I roll my eyes at the Avoxes tidying up. All of them leave quickly, except for the Avox I always seem to have when I visit the Capitol.

"Hey there, stranger," I greet with a grin. "How are you doing on this fine day?"

He raises an eyebrow at me and then chuckles. I cross my arms and shoot him a hilariously fake glare. I purse my lips hard before I collapse into laughter. He gets an alarmed look on his face and stares at me. "What? Did my laugh catch you off guard?"

He cocks his head to the side in thought and then nods at me.

"Um. Is there any way you could tell me your name?" I smile but then grimace. " _Curious_. I'm only curious."

He gives me a searching look before turning away and shaking his head.

I smile at him anyway. "We could play a guessing game. You know, I love guessing games. They make me feel all dandy."

He gives me an amused glance and I start rambling off names. He shakes his head at all of them and I soon become too tired to guess again. "I'll guess it in the morning… well, hopefully, that is."

He chuckles again and I grin. "Goodnight, mystery man." I slowly drift off to sleep, not really caring that he's still here.

I wake up in the morning, and remember about the rebellion. I have to find Haymitch so he can give me more information about this. I wonder why he told me out of the blue like that. I'm new among the mentors and they all seem pretty wary of me.

I find him at— now, I wonder why _he's_ here?— the bar. I sit beside him and when the bartender comes to ask me what I want, I wave him away. I look at Haymitch. "You remembered your shower. I always knew you were smarter than you looked."

He glares. "And I always knew you had no heart, sweetie."

"Even when I was _poor_ , _pathetic_ Johanna Mason?" I ask with venomous sweetness.

He rolls his eyes. "So I told you something last night that I shouldn't have."

I just look at him. "And I wonder why that is…?"

He scowls. "Yeah, I know I'm a drunk, shut the hell up about it. We need to go somewhere more private."

"Because there are so many people interested in you and me." I glance around at the mostly drunk population of the bar. "I'm the Liar and you're the Drunk. No one gives two fucks about us."

"You'd be surprised," he murmurs. "I just need to know one thing. Are you willing to risk your life for the cause?"

I pause for a moment. Am I willing to risk everything I've fought for? I hesitate. But what do I even have back in District Seven? A broken family that will only continue to be hurt by me... no social life to speak of... no future. And, with all that, I make my decision.

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

_Johanna Mason; Train to District Seven; 18-years old_

"Damn it!" I yell and nurse my now heavily bleeding hand.

Blight runs into the room. "What happened?"

"I sliced open my hand!" I shriek.

Blight grins. "Now look what you've gone and done! You're getting blood all over the new carpets. Shame on you, Johanna Mason."

"I don't know how I'll get away with it but please know that I _will_ kill you in your sleep if you don't go get someone right the fuck now!"

He just laughs, jogging away. Sooner than I thought it would be, a doctor, nurse, Blight, and what seems to be my personal Avox, come up through the hallway. The nurse gasps. "Oh Panem, Johanna! How did you _do_ that?"

"Oh I just grabbed a pencil and sliced my hand open, no big deal." I hiss. "What the fuck do you think I did, you _idiot_? Can you not see the broken glass?"

The nurse backs away slowly and I suddenly sit down, probably soaking my pants in my own blood. "Um, Blight? I feel kind of… dizzy?"

The Avox lifts me up and carries me over to a wooden table. He lays me gently on it. "You couldn't have found a comfier place to put me? Thanks a fucking lot."

I hear him stifle a chuckle in the presence of the two Capitolites. The doctor moves up to me and gets a good look at the jagged cut. "This will probably take awhile. It will hurt too. Want some painkillers?"

Not when I'm so close to getting back to District Seven, thank you very much. I would say that, but you don't say anything that could be counted as rude to the person who is about to pick glass out of your hand. "No to the painkillers. Any numbing medicine?"

He nods and injects the numbing medicine into my hand. Once I'm thoroughly numbed, he begins to pick glass out of the cut. Even with the medicine, it _hurts_. He looks over at my Avox. "What are you doing just standing there? Clean up the blood!"

I feel a deep loathing form for this doctor. I want to say something to him, but again, he's picking glass out of my hand. My Avox doesn't react to the harsh words and walks away to get cleaning supplies.

"If you don't mind me asking," I begin. "How do Avoxes eat? Can they even swallow and chew?" I've actually been wondering about this for a few days. How do all these people live?

"Well, not whole foods, at least." The doctor smiles serenely, as if he's not talking about actual human beings. "They mostly survive on cut up foods and smoothies. And, if they aren't able to even eat _those_ types of foods, nutrients are given to them through tubes."

"No speech at all?" I ask.

"None that anyone can understand."

"Do some people die?" I inquire quietly.

"Well, yes, I'm sure _some_ do." He pauses. "Starvation, perhaps, if they can't eat regular food and their owner deciders to withhold their nutrition bag as punishment."

I shudder. First, they cut out your tongue and then they starve you. What a horrible way to go.

"That's very rare, though." I wince in pain every time he pulls out another piece of glass and long for the experience to be over. "Ah, there we go. Time to sew you up."

Panem, that hurts. It's over in a few minutes though. "Do you have anyone to give you antibiotics in your district?"

"Not that I know of," I reply. "Thanks for stitching me up."

He leaves quickly, along with his still hesitant nurse. I see my Avox on the floor beside the patch of carpet where the blood dripped down off my hand and arm. I bend down to help him with the stain but he shakes his head quickly. "What is so wrong with me cleaning up my own mess?"

He sighs, relenting. I help him sop up the excess blood before he uses the magic carpet cleaner. "Every damn year, I mess up this carpet in some way. They need to invest in wood flooring on this train."

My Avox chuckles. We work in silence for a few minutes. I decide to start with the name game again. I've been guessing for the past few days and with no luck. A thought occurs to me. "Is your name something common?"

I've only been naming off slightly unusual to downright weird names. He nods exaggeratedly. "Saffron?"

He shake his head, smirking.

I wrack my brain for a completely normal name. "Sage?"

He pauses, looks a bit surprised, before grinning. He nods and I'm consumed with the feeling of _victory_. "I did it. I really fucking did it, didn't I? I am so _proud_ of myself. I deserve a medal of honor or something."

 


	3. end

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 19-years old_

Though I don't miss _needing_ to work, I miss the sort of… kinship that I had with others while working in the logging industry. I was just a normal District Seven girl then, now I'm a Victor who misses the feel of an axe in her hand more than anything.

No one wants to cut down trees with a Victor. No matter how well you know a person, when you watch them kill someone… you don't want to be around them anymore. So here I am, by myself, chopping at wood.

I come here as much as I like— you could call me a volunteer. I use my own axe and gloves and give them whatever tree happens to be cut down. I don't get paid but I'm happy enough with just being here.

It used to be really simple. Now I have no monetary issues but knowing you've killed a human being… it’s the worst feeling anyone will ever experience. If I didn't have my family to take care of, I’d probably just give up.

Sarah and Mary are at home. They keep the house running, in some ways, more than I do. They cook, clean, sew, and rarely leave the comforts of our home, other than for school. They don't have to work, which is wonderful for them because they wouldn't have been suited for it. Pine and Charles have long been in their own homes, married.

Bernadette— who I can't help but call Bernie even though she hates it because her name is such a _mouthful_ — walks up to me. "How are you doing, Little Mason?"

Bernie is the only one who'll talk to me here. She's my older brother's wife, and as such has been forced to speak to me. Despite the fact that I'm not the youngest, she insists on calling me "Little Mason."

Not the best nickname for sustaining a tough reputation.

I scowl at her. "Just over here being ignored by everyone because I'm a fucking pariah. The usual."

She frowns at my foul mood. "They're just scared of you, Johanna."

"Well, it's not my fault!" I hiss. "I didn't volunteer for the Games, I was _chosen_ at random. I used everything I had, everything I learned _from these people_ , to win and for what? To be an outcast? It’s fucking insane.”

"I know it is," she murmurs.

"And if you weren't married to Charles, you'd be over there with them," I say boldly, motioning to the group of women a few yards away, "talking about me like I can't hear you."

"You don't know what I'd do, Little Mason."

"No one talks to the Victors unless they're forced to, what makes you think you'd be any different?" I ask. When she doesn't reply, I sigh and glare at everything I can, including her. "I'm destined to have only Blight as a friend. It's a depressing thought."

"You have your family," she points out.

"My not-very-talkative brother, my other brother who has his own life to worry about, and my two little sisters who I have nothing in common with. If that doesn't sound like heaven, I don't know what does."

"Well, I'm your friend." She grins at me. "So there's that."

I'm starting to apologize for my outburst, when the sound of the horn that signals the end of the morning shift, reaches my ears. I promised Mary that I’d be home by lunch. Bernie follows me— she must not be working through lunch today, as she usually does— and I look at her. "What's Charles up to today?”

She rolls her eyes. "They have him in the factory for the next few months. Spraying.”

“And that’s just pressing a button every five minutes, right?” I ask and when she nods, I laugh. ”Lucky asshole."

She snorts. "He _is_ pretty damn lucky."

"Why didn't he switch with you?" I ask. The managers have been known to sometimes allow workers to switch with one another, if a valid reason is given. Wanting your wife to have the easier job is usually the best bet.

She groans. "He tried and they wouldn't let him."

"That sucks." I smile. "Since I don't technically work here, I don't know the joys of the factory."

She grins. "It's pretty amazing.”

We walk in silence for a few minutes and I think of Sage. I haven't spoken— that’s not the best way to describe our conversations, but _whatever_ — to him in a while. He has a way about him that made an impression on me, for some reason, and I count him as a friend. Sometimes, when my mind drifts, I wonder what he does when I’m not in the Capitol, who he cleans for and whether he looks at them like he looks at me.

"Oh my God," Bernie whispers suddenly, and I look up. My mouth drops open. The one small factory we have in District Seven has… collapsed. I blink a few times to make sure I'm not seeing things.

Nope, this is still happening.

“Oh my… what the hell could have happened?” I wonder aloud, eyes locked on the factory. When I don’t hear Bernie say anything at all, I turn to look at her. She’s on her knees, staring at the factory with blank eyes. “What is—?”

It feels like someone has punched me in the gut and as I continue to stare at Bernie, it doesn’t stop. Every time it feels like the pain may subside, another round comes— full force.

People always call my older brother "Lucky Charles." He's notorious for his good fortune. He doesn't starve, he gets easy work, and he always wins every game he plays. I always thought our mother must be watching out for him; making sure that the dice moves just a bit more, so it rolls right on the side he needs it to be.

The conveyor belt that Charles was working on is in the factory. And, although, there's a chance he's still alive in all that rubble, it's extremely slim. And if he wasn't lucky…

Then that means my older brother is dead.

_Johanna Mason; The Capitol; 20-years old_

The Capitol is one of the more horrible places to spend your time, especially if you're a Victor. Even more so if you’re a tribute but that’s a given. Victors visit once a year, at least, and if you’re extremely unlucky, you are “asked” to attend special events. Since my win is still fresh in everyone's minds, I’d still be forced to go to the Capitol during the Games, even _if_ we had more female Victors in Seven.

I don’t have it as bad as Finnick, of course, but I’m here quite often. He has to come _every_ damn year, even though Four has an abundance of male Victors, and for _all_ of the special events. I mean, I know they love him up here, but seriously? I’d die. Finnick is probably my best friend among the Victors, so I know how much it grinds on him to be away from District Four so often. He worries so much for his family back home, even though he tries to cover it up with his usual smarmy charm.

But mentoring, above all, is the absolute worst part of the Capitol. I tap my fingers on the desk in aggravation. This fucking sucks. Blight looks at me and before he can say anything about my distraction, I point at him and glare. "Don't even start."

"Johanna, you have to pay more attention!" he exclaims. A few of the other Victors give us dirty looks and I glare at them all. They're all grouchy and solemn, and I don't give a shit what they think.

I sneer. "Do you see who I have to try and get out of this thing? She's a goner."

He glares. "You can't give up on her."

"I sure as hell can," I snap. "Call me if anything interesting happens." I stand up and stalk out of the room, slamming the door. Storming out is kind of my thing now.

I stroll through the hallways and up to my room. Sage is there— cleaning as usual. I pause. ”It's nice to see you."

He raises an eyebrow, doubtful that I'm actually happy to see him. I laugh. "I'm being serious."

Sage shrugs before turning back to his work. I stare at the ground for a few seconds. "So, I was wondering... what did you do to become an Avox?"

He doesn't look at me, just keeps cleaning. It takes me a while to realize how personal of a question that could be considered. "Ugh, wait, I'm sorry. I guess. I didn't mean to ask that. Just slipped out."

He sighs and looks at be. For a moment, we just stare at each other. Finally, he rolls his eyes, making a motion with his hand for me to guess. I clap excitedly and then stare at my hands like they're not mine. He chuckles. "Killed someone?"

He shakes his head. And then the game begins. Blight doesn't come to get me, my girl is probably all ready dead. She didn't stand a chance, and it's easier to act like I don't care than to show how much I really _do_.

It's been at least a hour before I give up. "I honestly can't think of anything else but... how long have you been an Avox?"

He holds up his fingers, signaling to me that he's been here for twenty-one years. I raise an eyebrow. How old is this guy? Is he a former Capitolite that became a rebel, or something? "How _old_ are you? Please tell me you're not in your fifties."

He holds up fingers again, and I stare incredulously as they equal the same number. "So you've been an Avox since you were born?"

He nods and my eyebrows furrow. "How?"

Sage raises an eyebrow and I finally get it. Just an innocent baby, and for his mother's crimes he had his tongue cut out. Fucking insane. "That's... _horrible_. Don't you ever just want to… to hurt them back?”

He keeps working, not saying a word— of course he's not Johanna, why don't you just shut the fuck up while you still have the chance? I chide myself and look down. "I'm sorry. For asking all of that. Don't take anything I say to heart, I'm usually just all bark."

Before he can give me any indication that he forgives me, a knock comes from the door. I groan and roll off the bed, walking briskly to the door. I fling it open and a Capitol freak is there giving me a grin.

"Johanna Mason! It's so nice to meet you!" she squeals. "Such a huge fan. I'm here to give you a message, if you'd like to step out." I reluctantly do, giving Sage a parting glance.

The door shuts behind me. The woman's smile disappears from her face. "This way." She begins to walk and I have to jog to keep up. This woman is wearing heels ten inches high, so it's a pretty impressive feat.

"Where the hell are we going?" I hiss at her.

She smiles coldly and I can't suppress the shudder that runs through me. "You'll see, Ms. Mason."

Before I know it, we're walking into a room with an expensive looking desk. And behind it is… holy fuck. President Snow. I freeze where I am and can barely breathe.

"Johanna Mason," President Snow greets with a cold smile. "How nice to see you. Sit down, sit down."

It's not a suggestion, it's an order. I do so woodenly, feeling like I'm going to be killed as soon as I even think of relaxing. This is not supposed to be happening. I open my mouth and try to put on that strong persona I'm usually never without. "What do you want?"

"I have a business I'd like you to take part in," he informs me. “Your friend, Finnick, could probably tell you a thing or two about it, better than even I could.”

And after he's finished explaining, I can't think anything but _no_.

"No." I stare at him in horror. "I _won't_!"

"Johanna, you seem like a smart girl," he begins, smile placid. "You must know if you refuse, there will be consequences."

I stare at him, wanting to agree for my family. But I can't make the words come out. "I _refuse_ to bow down to you." I stand up and storm out of the room, careful to knock over the chair and slam the door as hard as I can.

I don't notice that I'm crying as I run through the hallways. I burst into my room, and when I see Sage, I know I should tell him to leave, but I end up sobbing into his arms like a child.

When I go home later that month, Sarah and Mary tell me that Pine's house burned down under mysterious causes, killing him and his wife. I pass out right there at the train station.

It's a warning, and later that week I receive a letter saying that my two sisters will go the same way if I don't agree by the next time I'm in the Capitol.

I've never been more scared in my life.

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 20-years old_

An epidemic has been sweeping through District Seven.

I try to keep my little family holed up in our house as much as possible but it's a hard thing to do when we need more food every few days. It's hard for Sarah and Mary, too, all they want is to see their friends. I don’t have the heart to tell them that most of those friends are dead.

I'm trying to buy our groceries as quickly as possible. I check a few tomatoes for signs of rotting. I unknowingly brought home rotting tomatoes last time and the twins teased me for days. I’m not used to being domestic, that’s their job.

I am walking over to the lettuce when a woman comes out of nowhere and collapses onto the stand. The vendor is yelling for her to move and the woman is violently coughing. I stare at her in horror as she convulses and coughs up blood into the plants. She goes still and I wonder if her body has finally given out or if she has just fallen unconscious.

I cover my mouth and try not to breathe as I run away in fear. I hear the vendor yell at me to come back with the groceries that I haven't paid for but I don't turn around. The disease is so contagious that if I breathed it in, I'd surely get it.

It takes only minutes to get to my house in Victor's Village. I open the front door and slam it behind me. I quickly walk into the living room. Mary is sewing a pair of pants that I tore a few days ago, while Sarah is working on an embroidery of hers.

I keep my hand over my mouth. ”Go to your rooms and don't come out until I tell you that you can."

They give me alarmed looks but I only order them again to get their asses up and _go_. Their faces are aghast as they put down their fabric and needles and run into their rooms.

I jog to the bathroom and grab a few towels. I stuff them under the cracks in the door. If someone is going to die in this house, it's going to be _me_ , not them. They _cannot_ catch this.

I quickly tell them why I'm doing this and I hear sniffles coming from Sarah’s room afterward. She must be scared out of her mind for me. I sit on the couch and just breathe, happy that they, at least, are safe.

It takes a few weeks for me to get the sickness. It just starts with a cough, such a simple thing, but it frightens me to the core. I'm terrified for my life and, after a few calls, antibiotics are on their way from the Capitol. The only thing saving me is my status as a Victor, nothing more.

The antibiotics work but I give it a few weeks before I allow Sarah and Mary to be around me again. I only allow them to come out when I am gone, in fear they will catch what I think the doctors called tuberculosis.

It takes a few days before I notice the sounds coming from the rooms. I assume it is just them talking to themselves or singing, and I don't want to risk infecting them, so I decide not to check. One day, Sarah comes out unannounced, _coughing_.

I sit there for a second, staring at her before hopping up and starting to make calls. Mary eventually pokes her head out of her own room and lets out her own tiny cough.

I almost sit down and cry at the small sound but I push through and wait for someone to answer. An administrator from the office I ordered the medicine from answers in an overly perky voice, "Hello?"

"Hi," I say, my voice shaking. "This is Johanna Mason, the Victor from District Seven who asked for antibiotics to treat her tuberculosis? My two little sisters have contracted it and I need more."

The woman pauses and rifles through some papers. "Ms. Mason… I’m so sorry to tell you this, but your request for more antibiotics is denied. We can only give medicine to citizens with high status and your sisters just don't make the cut."

I almost drop the phone. “What… what are you _saying_?"

The woman sighs and whispers to someone but I can't make out the words. "Your sisters' disease does not garner a need for medicine in the eyes of the Capitol. Have a good day, miss."

She hangs up and I stare at the phone for a few seconds, in stunned silence, before breaking it against the floor. I go on a rampage, and don't even realize it, throwing whatever I can get my hands on into the wall.

I'm suddenly on the ground with bleeding hands, sobbing. Sarah and Mary gather around me and hug me. I cry into them, hoping somehow, someway, that they will survive.

It is only a few measly weeks later when Sarah passes away. I cry until my whole face is swollen and unrecognizable. Mary seems to lose all of her will to live and days later, joins Sarah in death, even though she was much healthier. I can't function for so long afterward, it seems like I died with them. Blight's constant presence is the only thing keeping me eating and drinking and _living_.

In a world filled with cons, there is only one pro. Sarah and Mary were the last of my family left. I'm now— truly— _alone_.

And that means that no one can hurt me anymore.


	4. the end is only a beginning

_Johanna Mason; The Capitol; 26-years old_

So many things have happened in my life that people before me thought were impossible. There were two Victors for one Games, and the Districts successfully rebelled against the Capitol. Capitolites and the people from the Districts? We're one in the same now.

Sometimes I forget that I was originally a part of the rebellion, considering I never fought. I was a _bit_ preoccupied, being tortured at the beginning and too terrified of a certain liquid to be of much help, in the end.

I hate myself for that.

I hate how my palms sweat, I hate that I can't visit Finnick's son because of the ocean, and I hate that taking a shower has just recently became a bearable activity.

I push the self-hatred away and look up. The massive buildings seem to, as their names suggest, touch the sky.

I wonder if I closed my eyes, I could imagine that I'm back in District Seven. That I'm surrounded by trees and the smell of nature.

A deep rumbling sound comes out of nowhere and, for a second, I'm sure someone has just ran me down with a car. I open my eyes, finally noticing the black clouds off in the distance.

 _Hell_ no.

Panic grips me and I quickly look around for some place to duck into until the storm passes.

I grudgingly realize the only place to go is a dirty-looking bar across the street.

Oh _joy_.

I hurry over to it and pass through the grimy door just as the rain begins to fall. My breath comes quickly at the close call and I feel like I may pass out.

I push through the feeling, pulling my jacket tighter around me, before moving to sit at the bar.

I give the bartender my order and he raises his eyebrows in recognition. "Johanna Mason! I never thought I'd see you in my pub."

I smile, gesturing to the heavy rain outside. "I was just passing through and got caught in the rain."

He grins at me again, before turning away to prepare my drink. I feel someone slip into the stool beside me, and turn, expecting some greasy-looking guy to be there.

It amazes me how many people want to get in your pants just because you helped plan an overthrow of a totalitarian regime.

When I see the man beside me, though, my eyes widen in shock. I haven't seen him in… well, _years_.

" _Sage_?!"

He grins. "It's nice to see you, Johanna."

I blink at him, completely stunned. "You… you can talk?"

"A few years after the rebellion, President Paylor offered… well, I guess you can call it tongue replacement surgery, to the Avoxes if they wanted it." He shrugs. "I kind of wanted to see what all the fuss was about. It helps with eating and talking but I still can't taste anything. Kind of a let down, honestly."

My drink shows up and I knock it back in seconds. I glance at the bartender. "I'm going to need another."

Sage laughs. "I would drink with you but he's my boss, so…"

"You work in this du— _fine_ establishment?" I blurt.

"Unfortunately, yes." He chuckles. "So what do you do with your time nowadays? Do you have a job?"

"I'm the sometimes mayor of District Seven," I reply, glancing away, still disoriented by the idea of Sage speaking.

"' _Sometimes_?'" he questions, interest piqued.

"There's a lot of stupid people in politics, Sage," I reply, rubbing my temples. "I get fed up with them from time to time, resign for a few days, and then they beg me to come back. I don't have anything else to do, so I eventually agree."

He rolls his eyes, a small smile on his face. I return the look. "So other than what I can _only_ tell is the best job ever, what's going on in your life? Marriage? Children? Baby mommas?"

Sage snorts. "No marriage, no children, and no baby mommas… that I _know_ of, at least. My mom died a year ago, which was… not the best time of my life."

"I'm sorry," I murmur. "I'm sure she was… really great."

"She was," Sage replies simply. "And I've just recently moved into a new apartment."

I grin. "So what I'm getting from this is that your social life sucks. But so does mine, so I guess have no room to talk. Congrats on the apartment, though."

"Why are you in the Capitol?" Sage asks after a moment of silence.

"Business," I reply, rolling my eyes. "They're probably going to berate me for... something."

"So you have a meeting?"

His words make me realize that I _did_ have a meeting. I check my watch.

Which started thirty minutes ago.

I curse. "Yeah, I did. The damn rain made me miss it though."

His eyebrows furrow for a second until suddenly the small wrinkle between them smooths out. "Oh . . . _that_. That I know about."

"How do you know about that?" I hiss. "That's supposed to be… classified or some other stupid shit, that _keeps people from knowing_!"

He smirks. "I can't reveal my secrets."

After another moment of fear, I let it go and just roll my eyes. "Ass."

I get a call a few seconds later and it's some higher-up's secretary who proceeds to bitch at me about missing my meeting. I roll my eyes and explain the situation, which makes the man soften a bit. In the end, he reschedules my meeting for tomorrow. I sigh after he's hung up, and turn to Sage. He watches the owner move behind the bar, who has since brought me two more drinks, as he asks, "Do you have anywhere to stay?"

I could always check into a hotel, of course, but I might as well see what he's offering. "Well… no, not really."

His mouth twitches into a smile for a second. "Would you like to stay in my apartment tonight?"

I'm a little surprised, considering we haven't seen each other in _forever_ , but not too put off by the idea. "Not the worst idea I've ever heard, but considering all the shit I've been through, that's not saying much."

He raises his eyebrows. "Ugh… Is that a yes or a no?"

The rain stopped a few minutes ago, so I stand. "Am I going to be forced to find this place myself or are you going to get your ass in motion?"

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 29-years old_

"This is stupid," I mutter. "You _love_ living in the Capitol, why would you _ever_ consider moving to District Seven?"

"Because I love you more?" he replies.

I roll my eyes. "I want an actual _reason_."

Sage grimaces and quickly says, "Because I want to spend more time with you?"

"A reason that doesn't involve _me_ ," I snap.

"The trees are beautiful this time of year," he snaps back, frustration clearly evident in his tone.

I roll my eyes. " _You_ are insufferable."

He lets out a groan and glares at me. I raise an eyebrow at his glare and we stare each other down for a few minutes. His eyes are intensely blue and, okay, maybe, possibly, I get lost in them for a few seconds.

I tear my eyes away from his when I find the strength and roll them, "This isn't getting us anywhere."

He shrugs, still glaring, and I return the look with more venom than he can ever hope to possess. He finally lets out a breath. "Why are you so angry with me? Do you… do you not even care that I'm doing this for you?"

"I don't want you to do this for me!" I exclaim, before slumping. "I'm not worth it."

He places a hand on my cheek. "You are worth everything I can give."

I turn my face away from him and although I don't pull it off as well as I usually can, I try to joke my way through it. "Well that's not saying much, considering you don't have that much to give."

He flinches. "Thanks for that."

I have a lump in my throat as I apologize. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean that… _at all_. I'm just scared… and confused. I don't know what to do anymore, because I don't what we _are_ anymore."

He kisses me, and though I'm surprised, I kiss him back. I've always loved Sage, that enough is simple. Even when I barely knew him, I still loved him in my own way. And today isn't any exception, and tomorrow won't be either. I'll love him forever and this, right here, is such an easy place to fall into.

I pull away after a few seconds, though our noses still touch, and smirk. "I guess I know now."

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 32-years old_

Sage stands behind me in the mirror and I smile nervously at him. He gives me a hug from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "So today's the day. Are you okay… with all this?"

I kiss his cheek. "Of course."

He grins before pulling away and I look at myself in the mirror for a few more seconds. Dear Panem, I've changed monumentally. I'm so much happier now, I can actually see it in the way I hold myself.

Sage's words float through my head, " _So today's the day_..."

I love Sage and I never want to give him up. I want to be with him forever.

But.

I'm not sure about marriage. I've always known Sage is the marrying type but I've also always known I'm _not_. I'm committed to Sage, that much is obvious, so why should I care about marriage? It's only a representation of a couple's commitment to another, and we both know we'll never leave, so why is it _necessary_?

It's a known fact that when you're trying to hurt someone or make them agree to something, you go after their spouse and their children. Since I don't have any children— and I don't plan on them either— my spouse is the only way to go. And obviously people know Sage and I are together anyway but the idea of labeling him as even more important to me than he all ready is? It makes me cringe.

And, yes, I know this is stupid. I know it's illogical, but I hate the idea of Sage being my husband because I'm still scared. But, Panem, I'm fucking _tired_ of being scared. That's why I agreed to this whole charade, to find a way to break through that terror.

But it's not gone, I don't think it will ever completely leave. It's here right now, casting a shadow over what should be a happy day. Or at least what I _think_ should be a happy day.

I pause, really _looking_ at myself in the mirror. There's confusion and indecision and fear there, in my face, and I know I can't do this.

I can't marry him.

I turn away from the mirror and let my feet carry me numbly from the room and down the stairs. He smiles at me from the couch. "Are you ready to go?"

I lower myself beside him, biting my lip. "I can't do this."

He stares at me for a moment. "You don't want to marry me."

"I don't want to marry _anyone_ ," I protest. "I love you, you know that. And I'm not doing this to hurt you, which I shouldn't have to tell you but—."

"Don't try to turn this around on me," he snaps. "If you didn't want to marry me, why did you say yes?"

I stare at my hands. "Because I wanted you to be happy. I wanted this for you so much that I didn't even think about me and what I wanted."

Sage stands. "I can't do this. You can go tell everyone that it's off, okay? Tell them whatever you want, actually."

Sage walks away and I follow after him. "Sage, I _didn't_ —."

"Just _don't_. Don't try to apologize." Sage stares past me. "I have to get out of here. I'll… talk to you later."

I watch him exit out the back door. I turn around, preparing myself to go tell everyone that came here for a wedding that I've ruined _everything_.

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 32-years old_

It's been months since I've talked to him. Half the time I think I'm a huge bitch that can't make up my mind, and the rest of the time I think Sage is overreacting about this whole damn thing.

It's exhausting, honestly.

It's exhausting because I can't see a ginger without wanting to punch them because their stupid, _fucking_ hair makes me want to shrivel up. It's exhausting because normally Sage is the most forgiving person I know, and he can't even forgive me for this. It's exhausting because all of our mutual friends keep telling me to apologize and I _shouldn't have to_.

Sage knew that I didn't want to marry anyone. He _knew_ that. Why the fuck would he ever ask me, put me in this position?

The anger simmers inside of me until I find myself, furious, in front of Sage's front door. I knock so hard my knuckles hurt like a bitch. And I use to give out punches like they were candy, so that's saying something.

A few minutes later Sage and his stupid, red hair opens the door. "You know it's one in the morning, right?"

"I'm not the one that's stupid," I snap, pushing past him into his house. I shrug off my jacket and turn back to him. His look is an odd combination of confusion and annoyance. " _You_ are stupid."

"What the—?" he snaps.

I cut him off. " _I_ am awesome. And _hot_. I'll admit, I made a mistake. I shouldn't have said yes. But the even bigger mistake I made was being with you, because from the way you've been acting, it is increasingly apparent that you fucking _suck_."

Sage stares.

"I told you from the beginning that I didn't want to get married," I continue, feeling angry tears coming but pushing them back down. "I guess what I want to know is _why_? Why did you ask when you knew I didn't want it?"

"You know Avoxes were never allowed to get married. Or have kids... Those weren't an option. The only reason I'm here is because my mom was too far along for them to be comfortable with aborting me when they caught her." Sage sits down heavily. "So forgive me for thinking my whole life I could never have something, and then when I could I really fucking wanted it."

We stare at each other for a few moments and all my anger dissipates. I'm left feeling infinitely sad.

"You want kids, too, don't you?" I whisper.

"I do want a child, yeah," he replies softly. "But I knew you didn't want kids and I thought marriage would probably be the lesser of two evils, so I _asked_."

I sit down and turn to face him. "I love you and I don't want us be over."He smiles. "I love you and I don't want us to be over, either."

I sigh. "We can try to compromise, I guess."

"Thank you," he murmurs. "Do you need some time?"

"Yeah." I rest my head on his shoulder.

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 35-years old_

"This is great," Sage says, grinning from ear to ear.

I glower. "This is _horrible_."

"Well at least you don't have to marry me," Sage teases.

"I was planning on doing that in a few years," I mutter sourly. "But, of course, my plans never work out like they should."

"So it was a complete accident?" Sage inquires, smiling.

I make a face. "I hate you _and_ your overachieving sperm."

_Johanna Mason; The Capitol; 35-years old_

I look at the very defined blob on the screen and want to scream at the injustice of it all. I'm thirty-five years old! I should not randomly get pregnant. If anything, a thirty-five year old should have a few kids already or be unsuccessfully trying for one.

"Look at it!" Sage murmurs happily into my ear, before kissing the spot tenderly.

"Yeah, it's a real beauty," I mutter dryly.

Sage thumps my arm, and though it doesn't hurt in the slightest, I glare. He grins back at me. The doctor stares at us, no expression on her face. "Would you like to know the sex of the baby?"

Sage looks to me and I shrug. "You choose."

He bites his lip for a second before answering, "Yes."

The doctor smiles then, "It's a baby boy."

Sage turns to me, grinning, as I stare at the screen. That little picture up on the screen is a _boy_. There is a little boy _inside of me_. My feelings are warring. I'm freaked out but there's a little happiness there too. After a minute or two, freaked out definitely becomes the dominant emotion and I wrinkle my nose at the screen.

Sage pulls me into a kiss. When he pulls away, Sage tells me that he loves me. At the moment, even though I'm still furious with him for impregnating me, I can't help but say it back.

_Johanna Mason; District Seven; 36-years old_

I stare down at my baby's face and feel the joy that everyone said I would, even though I didn't really want him. When Sage enters the room, all the exhaustion of the day hits me, and I just want to sleep. I pass the baby to him, and happily let my eyes flutter closed.

When I wake up later, the first thing I see is Sage cradling our son in the corner. I smile before murmuring a greeting.

Sage looks up and smiles at me. "So what are we going to name him? Maybe after one of your brothers or your father?"

I flinch. "I don't really want a reminder that all of my family is dead every time I look at our soon, thank you very much."

"We barely talked about it," Sage points out. "Mostly because you wanted to ignore the fact that there was even a child inside of you up until two months ago. Which is kind of fucked up but— _Anyway_ , we don't have many names to choose from."

"Did I like any?" I ask, not having any energy to think back.

"We both liked Alder and Birk."

"Birk Alder is a nice name," I sigh. "Let's go with that."

Sage stares at me for a moment. "That was easier than I expected it to be."

"I don't have any energy to bicker," I point out. "Besides, I'll make your life hell for the next forty years, might as well give you this one."

Sage grins. "I love you."


End file.
